Aliens

It started with the lights – harsh and blinding lights that dropped from the heavens three days ago. The ships behind them were black, growling beasts that began to ravage the jungle the moment they touched the ground. Plants were trampled, trees were uprooted, and my village was completely destroyed. Some of us got out in time; sprinting to outpace the monstrous ships and taking refuge deep in the jungle. Most did not.

“How is your heart?” I sign to Ma’qi, who is peering out morosely through the scraggly brush covering the mouth of the burrow. She and I found shelter together after the initial attack, hiding beneath the roots of a towering carobica tree. Our language is entirely nonverbal and she turns to look at me with heavy eyes.

“What do they want from us, Kalhamai?” she asks in return, her motions betraying her distress. She’s barely moved the last three days; barely touched any of the carobica nuts and lan’ti berries I’ve managed to scrounge from around the burrow. They’re not very satisfying, but the not-too-distant sounds of thunderous machines and the screams of a dying planet have constantly filled the air. Twice now I’ve seen the aliens themselves – tall, looming creatures that travel in small packs – loudly crashing through the underbrush, not caring who hears them. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be safe here.

“I wish I knew,” I tell her honestly, and she begins to turn away. I touch two fingers gently to her cheek to bring her gaze back to mine, and I try to infuse a hope and optimism that I’m not quite feeling into my signs. “Whatever it is, they’ll take it. But eventually they’ll leave – and then we can rebuild.”

“It’s in the Mother’s hands,” Ma’qi replies simply. I don’t know how to respond, and my dismay must show on my face because she gives me a sad smile before looking away. Our village, Taleena, was small – not so small as Bohalman to the North, but small enough that there were few secrets among us. More than once I had observed Ma’qi at the periphery of Ritual barely keeping pace with the steps and turns, and only halfheartedly signing the chants. It was clear to me, as it was to almost everyone in Taleena, that she doesn’t share the same love and faith in our Mother. Her words are cutting.

I busy myself going over our supplies, trying to find my center and not give in to hopeless despair. It’s hard; to stay focused, to stay vigilant, to plan for an uncertain future. To survive. I count and double-count the small piles of nuts and berries, and I eye the water levels in our leaf-gourds. We have enough to last until tomorrow, especially with how little Ma’qi has been eating, but I’d rather not wait.

“I’m going to gather more supplies,” I sign as I come to crouch beside her, fastening the leaf-gourde to my back.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks. “We can carry more together.” It’s an unexpected offer and I’m moved by her strength, but I wave off the question.

“No, stay here and keep out of sight. I won’t be gone long.”

Ma’qi bows her head, relenting. “My heart goes with you,” she replies warmly.

I peer out around the brush and see that the morning mist has mostly dissipated. The air still hangs thick and heavy and I notice with growing perturbation that it seems hushed today. The mechanical growls are more distant, and even the persistent thrum of life in the jungle is muted. It’s like everything has taken shelter.

With a steadying breath, I adjust the leaf-gourde and prepare to run. Water is my first priority and there’s a palmoni bush nearby that should still hold most of the morning dew. With a last reassuring smile for Ma’qi, I dart from under the carobica roots and crouch behind a fallen log. All senses are on high alert as I peek over the top of it, but the jungle remains unnaturally still. I spot the palmoni bush about 60 feet away on the other side of a shallow clearing. I begin to skirt the clearing, carefully picking my way through the dense undergrowth and slipping between the halmora and gongo trees. A slight rustle above me makes me stop in my tracks and press against the trunk of a broad gongo, my heart rate skyrocketing as I try to scan the canopy.

Dear Mother, not a fura, I think over and over, panic rising. It was more than stupid for me to forget that the aliens aren’t the only thing in this jungle that would see me dead. Five minutes pass. Then another five. The canopy remains still, offering no hint of whatever creature is lurking in its foliage. I cautiously peel away from the coarse bark, each movement silent. If a fura springs down I’ll have to drop the leaf-gourde and pray to the Mother I can beat it back to the burrow.

I slowly inch my way forward, my heart still trying to betray me, and eventually, mercifully, I reach the palmoni bush. There’s no other motion from above and I quickly set to relieving the broad leaves of their precious water collections. I fasten the leaf-gourde shut once it’s full, the weight a welcome burden, and I decide to take the long way back along the other side of the clearing. Fura or not, I’d rather not find out what’s sharing this quiet morning with me.

I make it about halfway around before I see it. Tucked about 25 feet further in the trees is a stump with small piles of red shavings dotting the top, and that means one thing: dovalen grubs. It’s not much, but it’s better than nuts and berries. I shift the leaf-gourde from side to side on my back, trying to decide if I should grab them this trip or come back. I hate to venture this far from the burrow twice - the carobica nuts and lan’ti bushes are much closer - but I also want to take as many with me as possible. I decide to drop the water off first.

The lingering feeling of being watched sits in my throat as I creep back and even after I slip beneath the sturdy, sprawling carobica roots. Ma’qi rushes up to help me unfasten the leaf-gourde.

“You were gone a while, are you alright?” she signs nervously. There’s a deep relief under her motions, but it quickly evaporates as I explain sensing the presence in the canopy and finding the dovalen shavings.

“You can’t go back out if there’s a fura!” she exclaims, clapping after each sign for emphasis. I press my head to hers for a moment, trying to radiate reassurance.

“We need better food, and I don’t know how long the dovalen have been there already. Tomorrow may be too late. Besides, I’m faster than a fura,” I joke. Ma'qi presses her head to mine in return.

“Mother protect you,” is all she finally replies. I’m surprised and deeply touched by her sincerity, and I flash a grateful smile.

“I’ll be back soon.”

The jungle is still blanketed in uneasy silence as I creep back up to the fallen log. Immediately the feeling of being watched is so profound it’s choking, but I maintain steady, silent progress, checking the canopy constantly until I reach the stump. I’m just about to dig out the first wriggly dovalen when I glance up once more. It’s there, right above me. It’s only a slight shadow against the leaves, but the feline form is one I would recognize anywhere: the fura. I carefully slide into a crouch, knowing that I’ll need to move first to have any chance. And then I’ll have to run for my life.

Before I can begin my sprint, the fura makes its move. It leaps across the branches to the neighboring tree on my left, then continues its frenzied retreat deeper into the canopy. I follow its path, puzzled, my joints turning to jelly with the rush of relief. It’s short-lived, however, as I see what caused the fura to turn tail. Two aliens materialize from the thick trees on the other side of the clearing, the hovercraft they dismount from as silent as the fura it startled.

They make harsh, rapid sounds with their mouths as I dive for cover behind a nearby bush. I realize too late as searing lines of pain erupt all over my body that it’s a naalan bush – and its thorny vines already have me completely ensnared. I’ll need to rip free if I’m going to make a run for it.

The pale, towering aliens continue to hoot and squawk at each other as they fuss around the hovercraft, and one bends down to examine something on the ground before unstrapping a long, black tool from its back. Then it starts to advance toward my bush.

Move! My brain shrieks.

I thrash and push with all my might to break away from the naalan vines, the thorns digging deep as I struggle. Before I can get free a loud crack shatters the air, and I’m thrown backward as a fiery pain explodes in my chest. I look down to see my lifeblood streaming from my body. The edges of my vision grow blurry as one alien comes to stand over me. I gaze into its eyes as the pain starts to fade, and I raise my hands to make a last, labored string of signs.

“Mother take me.”

She does.

*****

“Are you fucking kidding me? We can make a drill that mines 10,000 tons of infinitum ore a day but we can’t make a goddamn scooter last more than an hour,” Daniels grouses as he climbs off of the craft. Boone follows suit behind him. They had managed to guide the finicky machine to a small clearing, but making it back to base would be a pain if they couldn’t get it running.

“I can’t wait to get out of this miserable jungle,” Boone comments, slipping a silver, heart-shaped locket out of his front vest pocket. He opens it to glimpse a picture of his wife, Ellie. He only has two months left until his tour is complete, and then he can spend six months with her back at the colony on Mars.

“You Martian kids have no idea. I’ve seen ten other planets now and this is the closest thing to Earth there is,” Daniels rebukes him.

“Well maybe I would know if you old fucks hadn’t destroyed Earth,” Boone fires back. Daniels glowers at that and busies himself at the scooter’s electrical panel. Suddenly he bends down, then motions Boone over to him.

“Hey kid, check this out. It looks fresh. It might be a print from one of those big jungle cats I keep hearing about,” Daniels calls. Boone reluctantly comes over to examine it. “I used to go hunting in Africa with my Pa when I was little. I wonder what a pelt from this beauty would get back on Mars.”

Boone rolls his eyes as the old man slides his rifle from his back and begins to edge toward the trees. A flurry of motion and rustling springs from a bush just ahead, and Daniels quickly fires a shot into the dense foliage. Boone rushes forward, excited to see what he hit, and he peers into the bush to find a large rodent with lavender fur and a bullet hole clean through its chest.

Boone had seen the creatures here and there before, and he can’t help but feel like this one is staring straight into his soul as it quickly bleeds out. The creature raises its paws and makes several flowing, intricate motions before becoming still for good.

“Well damn,” Daniels curses as he comes to glance over Boone’s shoulder. “It’s just a stupid vermin.”